


Tracing a shadow

by BrynTheBeatnik



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Big Sisters, Brother-Sister Relationships, Gen, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, Mother-Son Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:00:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27727168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrynTheBeatnik/pseuds/BrynTheBeatnik
Summary: Henry Johnson learns about his real family. Years ago he was Michael Gray, now he comes back to meet his mother and is desperate in search of his sister, Anna.
Relationships: Michael Gray & Anna Gray, Michael Gray & Polly Gray, Michael Gray & Tommy Shelby
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Pairing: None  
> Requested: No  
> Word Count: 2360 words  
> Warnings: Drug use mentioned, abuse mentioned  
> Summary: Henry Johnson learns about his real family. Years ago he was Michael Gray, now he comes back to meet his mother and is desperate in search of his sister, Anna.   
> Author’s Note: This is the first part of probably two, I made a cut because I am way too eager to post this. It’s my first piece of writing in the english language, so please… if you notice something unfamiliar, mention it. I need this to get better, cus starting to write in a new language is like starting at zero again. I’m very self-conscious about this. I really tried my best to capture the scene, hinting for the second part which is more about the sister. Personally I think this got quite sad and Michael is skeptical at first, because of the way he was treated in the past. I like Michael as a character a lot, because right from the start there is something off about him and he isn’t that easy to like. Actually I end up hating characters who are built to be liked or sympathetic, because I am really not a touchy feely type of person. And I still hope that season six will change the fate for Michael, which is unlikely because his way seemed to be planned all along.   
> And virtual kisses and hugs for every like, reblog, comment or else

It was a hard day for Henry, actually a hard week, too much for a person of his young age. He wasn’t eighteen and yet he picked all of his belongings, packed it in a suitcase and took the train to Birmingham. That is where his mother lived, his real mother, not the woman who raised him the past few years. Henry was unbelievably sorry, when he left the house while his mum was still crying, but he had to and she had to understand that. He had to go see that woman. Since the man came around and told Henry where to find her, he could not stop himself from thinking about it. About her. This alone brought him to the verge of tears. How many years have passed? Was she still the same woman? Would she recognize him? The questions kept breaking down on him until he could not stand it anymore.

Then he left. Easy as that. The whole train ride he kept staring at the piece of paper with the address written on it in a messy handwriting. The small wrinkly letters haunted him. He still knew the street. That is where he grew up, before his mother lost custody. Henry was around six years old when they took him. Suddenly he had a lump in his throat and his heart started beating with twice the speed. The palms of his hands were sweaty and no matter how many times he rubbed them on his pants, it would not help.

His head was a mess when he finally arrived at the house. Long lost memories came back. Not a good thing to happen. With nervous eyes he looked around. This was the right place, the right door. Behind that was his old life and he didn’t think he would have come back to it so soon. There was Elisabeth Gray. Was she expecting him? Apparently not, because even after he could bring himself to knock on the door nobody answered. Then he knocked again and again. The outcome was still the same. He stood alone on the street as the sky was getting darker.

So there was nobody home. Good to know, he thought and went to the tavern for the night. While doing that he couldn’t stop asking himself if this was a stupid idea all along. He knew this woman. She wouldn’t have changed for the better. Probably, she was still a drinker and couldn’t open the door, because she was asleep on the couch. And why would his sister come back to this mess?

The next day it was still the same, but he was angry and nervous enough to keep waiting. The night before, he couldn’t stay any minute longer, because he knew that the neighborhood was shady. Now he had the time and the patience to stand in front of the closed door that seemed to mock him. Well, he couldn’t just enter. Henry wasn’t part of the household and he certainly did not have a key for this house.

This was no fairytale where he would come back home and everything would turn out great. Henry just needed to know that his mum was still alive, still was the same chaotic person and then he would ask about his sister. What would follow that? He did not know. Maybe he searched for his sister, maybe something else depending on how his mum would treat him.

Henry turned around whenever a woman of suitable age passed. She finally arrived. Oh, he should consider himself lucky! At first she was confused and Henry tried to be nice to her, since he needed information. It was his first challenge, because she smelled like liquor and sex. Even he, who grew up in the small village where nothing ever happened, knew that smell. Her hair was a tangled mess; he could barely see her face.

He licked his lip like he always did when he was on edge. Then he explained himself and the reason why he had shown up at her door this morning and he couldn’t intercept mentioning that he made a quick visit the evening before.

She dropped the keys. Henry was a nice boy, so he picked them up but when the cold metal touched his hands, something strange occurred to him. Now he could let himself in, into the house that was once his home. Then he did. It was somehow messy and cluttered, but it didn’t look like his memories. Back then his family didn’t have a lot of money. Whenever there was a need, his parents would do something illegal and the problem was solved. His mum wasn’t a whore, he knew that at least, but they would steal and rob. All his life he was told what his family did to survive was wrong and he stopped questioning it, but it seemed like things worked out in their favor. In every corner was something golden, tacky figures of horses. He left that uncommented.

Wherever he looked he saw something gold and she was wearing quite a few golden rings and earrings. So she stayed true to the gypsy traditions. Henry couldn’t even say if he behaved like one of them. In the orphanage the priest told him that he would beat every drop of gypsy blood out him and it sort of worked. At least that is what Henry thought. He didn’t feel like a Romani, but of course he didn’t know what that meant. It was just a word for him, not his heritage. Maybe if he had stayed and this woman had raised him he would have given a different answer.

He didn’t recognize her. She was a stranger and whenever he tried to remember her face in his memories there was just a blurred spot. What a strange thing, he thought, somehow he knew the house, the street and other things, but the face of his mother felt unfamiliar. Despite how hungover and baffled she was, she made him breakfast. And god, he was hungry. Since he had woken up that day he couldn’t bring himself to eat. Too nervous and that always hit him in the gut.

The food was okay, but he emptied the plate in no time and then thanked her for the meal, like the good boy he was. That was done now and he had questions, tons and tons of it. His first was about her occupation and apparently she was no cook. Then he asked about that man, who visited the Johnson household days ago, the man, who had given him the information Henry sought so long. Well, he didn’t actually want to come back to this woman, this useless mother, who had beaten him, but that was not the main reason for his return. His sister was. Yet his rationality obliged him to start with his search at the beginning and the rich man was a good start.

The woman- he couldn’t bring himself to call her his mother yet- explained: ‘He works with horses.” Much to Henry's surprise, because he had a great passion for them too. He told her that and even mentioned his brown mare.

Her reaction was enthusiastic, too much for his taste. ‘It’s in the blood”, she said and Henry wouldn’t believe her. As if he still had any gypsy blood in him. Wasn’t it beaten out of him by the hand of a priest? And this woman, who had done nothing but to drink, smoke opium and yell in the first years of his life, knew apparently more about him than he did. But he didn’t get mad, though, he had too many questions to start a fight now. Henry knew his top priority very well.

He was ready to proceed, but was left confused by her upcoming question. If it was okay, that she was his real mother? That sounded much like he had a choice or a saying in that. How could he change which woman had given birth to him? He phrased it nearly like that and she agreed with him. Then she repeated her former issue, which made him think again. The house seemed empty. There was no drunken dad around here. He couldn’t see any open bottles lying around and no pipe. Could have been worse, right?

With a burst through the door other noises came along. Voices and they yelled. He didn’t know who that was, but screaming was never a good thing in this house, that was burned into his brain. So he stood up, ready to leave again to prevent trouble. Three men rushed into the room, faster than he could have escaped.

What an uncomfortable situation did he find himself into? Grown men were playing war with wooden guns and the woman came quick to console him. He didn’t like her touch and stiffened. This was weird and nobody could have denied that. Everyone could feel the confusion in the little chamber.

The men stopped and then glared at Henry, which wasn’t very welcoming at all. Their smiles revealed that they knew more than they would say and there was something dead and cold in their blue eyes. But Henry recognized the third man. It was the rich guy, who had shown up at the fence just when his mum had called for dinner. Now he was standing right next to Henry and padding his shoulder as they would know each other. Henry gave him a puzzled look as the man spoke with a dark deep voice. ‘That’s our cousin, Michael.’

Even though his words weren’t meant for Henry, he could pull out some information. These three men were his cousins, so a proper greeting was mandatory. This was also a chance to gain distance to the woman, known as Elisabeth Gray. Henry shook hands with them and then learned their names. One was Arthur, the other named John. Later he learned that the last was called Tommy. His name was Thomas Shelby, but just a few people would call him like that. Others called him the devil.

Just in this moment he was a stranger to Henry and it was odd to be called Michael. He knew that this was his name and sometimes when he couldn’t sleep he would say his name so he wouldn’t forget the sound of it. The past few years he hadn’t been called Michael, so it was unusual to him and felt like he was wearing the clothes of somebody else. It didn’t fit, he thought, but then again, he would have to get used to it. His sister, as he had known her, would gladly refuse to call him Henry.

And the stories about how they would have fun as children scared him somehow. He had little to no memories about these particular events and remembering was hurtful. Michael could have tried, but then why would he do something like that to himself? It was not like they had the right to question him. ‘I really can’t remember anything’, he lied with a meaningless laugh, but then added a little truth: ‘Except for the day when they took me away.’

As expected they were muted. The woman hurried as fast as she could and with tears in her eyes she hugged him. He just stood there not moving at all, because he didn’t know what to do and if he should hug her too. Maybe she just needed a moment, he said to himself and felt a wave of relief when she finally got away.

On top of that lunacy the third man welcomed him to the Shelby family as if that word had any meaning to him. He should feel grateful though. That was the right thing to do. The long lost son coming back home, needing a hug and a kiss from mum… Well no, not like that and he didn’t like the position he was in. That role just didn’t suit him and he felt rigid by thinking about it.

Suddenly everyone was so glad to see him and they were making big plans of showing him around. Around where? This lumpy little neighborhood? And they said it with pride in their voices as they were kings so amazed by their edenic territory. Michael wasn’t so sure about their greatness yet. He still had other things in his mind and he wouldn’t be blinded by their sudden kindness. Everybody was kind first and cruel after. He learned that the hard way.

Finally his cousins left. And he could argue big time about their intentions, but their suits were nice and probably expensive, without a question. Michael thought about buying and wearing suits like that on a daily basis, however he was lacking the money. That was a good thing about his new found- long lost family. They seemed to be rich, measured by the golden stuff around the house and the way they dressed.

The two were alone again. For hours they talked and talked, but it was meaningless to him. There wasn’t anything he hadn’t already expected. Polly, as he would call her from now on, told him about the family. How rich they are, that they own some businesses, that she was the treasurer, things that were nice to know but didn’t really matter.

Later she left for work, excused herself about a thousand times, and he searched for Tommy to make a call. Initially, he told his mum that he would be here just for the day only, but after spending hours with this woman, he still hadn’t one single clue about his sister. So he had to stay and they didn’t seem so bad though. Of course they were criminals and betting shops were highly illegal, but at least they didn’t pretend to be holy and innocent. This added to the fact that he would rather cut his right hand off, than go back to the same boring village where he came from.

He wouldn’t leave without answers, but where he’d go after was still a thing in planning.


	2. T

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael getting drunk and sad about the death of his big sister Anna.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: None
> 
> Requested: No
> 
> Word Count: 2822 words
> 
> Warnings: Drug use mentioned, underage drinking  
> Author’s Note: Maybe there is going to be a third part, where Anna lives... but I still not sure about this. 
> 
> And virtual kisses and hugs for every like, reblog, comment or else! 
> 
> Do not repost my work

A week was all it took for him to learn the truth. At first he was reluctant to ask, but after they had visited Polly’s new and suburban house, he knew that nobody else was home but Polly, the maid and him.

While waiting for the maid to bring the food, Polly said something that upset him. He looked just like his father and he didn’t know what to do with this piece of information. Should he be proud to look like the man who had beaten him? Michael bit his lip and stood silent. There were no words suitable for this situation.

Polly seemed to notice and explain how his biological father had died, smashed between the canal and the boot. Michael didn’t care about this. In fact he had already expected something similar. It was too quiet around the house. The presence of his father would have been noticeable.

He had no hard feelings about his death. The few memories about his father weren’t actually nice. So there was nothing to grieve about. And anyway, who said that he needed a father? Especially a father like this. Michael was almost a man and he survived this hell of a mess called his life all on his own.

But then after two days of staying at the house, he became jittery. There was a purpose for his arrival and he needed to fulfill it. Obviously, Anna wasn’t here, when Tommy did his research, maybe he didn’t just look for Michael but also for the long lost daughter of Elisabeth Gray. Or Polly knew something.

Well, this was speculated, but he wouldn’t give up and go, before he’d even tried. So he started looking around the house. Anything from her could be helpful.

Five days later, Michael went up to the house in the watery lane. There was something strange about this place and he hated every minute he had to spend there, but Polly was gone to work, so he could search unimpeded.

Soon he realized that his mother had vanished every evidence about her children around the house. It did hurt, but he could understand her. To lose custody was her lowest point. She told him something like this. At least she’d acknowledged that. This couldn’t heal his old scares, he knew, but it eased the pain. He told himself she changed for the better. Otherwise he wouldn’t have stayed.

The last room was their old chamber, Anna’s and his. He avoided going in there, but there was no way around it. Cold sweat ran down his back, when he stared at the door. Feeling the cold door handle in his hand made him gulp. His anxiety went through the roof.

Everything was still the same. He could tell that by first sight. In opposing corners were their beds. The bear figure from grandfather stood on the dresser. Anna loved playing with it. Being in this room was horrible for him. All the memories of her and his childhood rushed over him, crushed him to bits and pieces.

Suddenly he felt sick, almost like puking. He couldn’t be in this room anymore. Furthermore he was stupid to believe there was a hint about her whereabouts. Nobody was in there for years. Everything was dusted and it sort of looked like a shrine.

His feet took him out, faster than he could think. When the door was closed again, he was relieved. Without looking back, he hurried downstairs, mostly to get away from this nightmare, but also because he heard Polly entering the house.

‘Oh, you are here?’ she asked. Her eyes widened as she glared at him. Of course Polly expected him to be in the nice house with the ham and the maid and not here with his crumbled childhood memories.

Michael coughed slightly and nodded. He wanted to say something, but he couldn’t find any good explanation for his behavior. Then he fumbled his hands in his pockets and faced the floor. It was like she caught him, but with was exactly? It was not a crime going into what used to be his room.

With his new found courage he declared: ‘I was upstairs in my old chamber.’ He signed, peeked at the big clock right behind Polly and then back to her. ‘I mean… Anna’s and mine.’

Polly’s mimic was somewhere between hurt and thunderstruck. He caught her off-guard just by saying her name. This was no good sign at all. Michael got the impression there was something she kept from him. He was no child anymore and she from all the people should know that. If there was some secret about his sister, he needed to know.

‘Where is she anyway?’ he dug deeper, regardless of her feelings. The tears filled her eyes and gave him a scare. Her hands were covering her mouth, as she mumbled: ‘You really want to know this now?’

Again he nodded but with the stoic calm of a child that has already been broken. Now the sadness hit him too. The world lost its color while she explained it to him. His heart ached. He couldn’t stand hearing about her death.

Suddenly his body felt numb. Her words were muted as his world began to shatter. Michael closed his eyes, so he wouldn’t cry, but it didn’t matter as the tears found their way out anyway. There was nothing he could do about it. Everything felt just so useless. Why was he even here? And why did he wait so long to ask?

Polly stumbled into him, probably with the intention of a hug, but Michael refused. Without a blink he pushed her away. Everything seemed to hurt him now, even the simple touch. A tear rolled down and hit his shirt. ‘I need to be alone right now’, was the last thing he said before storming off.

He just couldn’t stand how Polly looked at him and to top it off she wanted to nurture him. That was the last thing he needed. Outside he first didn’t know where to go, but before he should make one more step in any direction, he wiped off the wetness from his cheeks.

His head tilted as he stared at the greyish sky of bad old Birmingham. Suddenly he knew which way to go. Michael made his plan. It arranged itself in his mind, piece by piece.

First he went straight to the Garrison. There he greeted Henry with a dull voice and asked for liquor, cigarettes and a matchbook. For Tommy, he said, knowingly that this request couldn’t be denied. He had learned already, that his family was somehow the unholy rulers of this rotten empire. It was not like he had something against that. Actually it was quite useful. Being Elisabeth Gray’s son had his benefits. Without a second ask the barkeeper put a whole bottle, three packages of cigarettes and some matches on the counter. The whole time Michael’s face stood bland. He took everything with him and left in silence.

Now his pace wasn’t confident as he headed towards the fields just at edge of town. He should know the way, but his memory was blurred. In his head played a scene of Anna and him running around a willow which stood near a creek. Actually he didn’t had a good reason to search for this spot, but something in his gut commanded him to.

Somehow he reached his destination. Michael wasn’t so sure this was the same tree his sister liked so much, but it didn’t really matter, as she wasn’t here to argue with him and she never would be. He just wanted to feel near her, but that was impossible, so he went with the next best thing.

As if his body lost the last bits of energy he slumped down. In the mud he sat, unsure with what he should start; crying, smoking or drinking. He had never done this stuff, but now he needed to. Everything ached and especially his throat was bone dry. So he went with the whiskey first. How much he hated the taste of it. The burning feeling in his chest expanded and the liquor left bitterness on his lips and tongue.

Just like he had a task list to do, he put the bottle away and fumbled in his jacket for the cigarettes. Michael hated smoking even more than drinking but he still remembered how Anna stole mum’s fags for the whole purpose of acting so adult. ‘Butt me.’, demanded a squeaky voice in his head. It was Anna crossing his mind again and again.

With shaky hands he tried to light his cigarette. Out here in the field it was too windy so he moved closer to the tree. It finally worked, but even the few drags made him cough terribly. He leaned against the bark and started to blubber. While he walked here, he could still stifle his feelings, but now they wrecked him.

Everything was pushing him down, more than ever. The sadness took him hostage. He was so up his mind, that he noticed the cigarette on his leg too late. Now there was not only a hole in his pants but also a burn on his skin. With all his might he slammed the cigarette butt in the grass next to him. He didn’t need those anyway.

Somehow he was sad and angry and full of doubts, too much to handle for him all on his own. He needed her now, but Anna was gone and she wouldn’t come back ever again. Michael knew that but he refused to accept this. How could she be dead when they made an oath to finally be reunited again? She swore it and now… He was here, but she was not.

He was unable to grasp it. Her death seemed so unreal and yet it did happen. Polly told him the truth, she wouldn’t have lied. If there had been any chance Anna was still alive, she would have told him so. But then again… how?

‘She tried coming back even after she was adopted by another family, so they took her around the globe, where she couldn’t run. There she died.’ That was Polly’s explanation, but it wasn’t enough for Michael. He needed to know how. It would haunt him over and over again, if he didn’t know the details. In his head he imagined every possible way it could have happened, which just made it worse.

Anna’s face kept messing with him. He still remembered her brown eyes, that daring grin, that could win everybody over and how her auburn brown hair framed her face. His sister had glowing skin from all the days she spent outdoors with grandpa. She had a captivating presence and she’d known how to use it. How easily she could charm people. This would apply to animals too. Anna had something bold to her and god, she feared nothing. Nobody could intimidate her. That’s what he treasured the most about her.

As a child he had so much to fear. He was scared about everything and anything, but Anna had protected him. His big sister was hero and he thought she was invincible. She put up a fight with Arthur, who was at that time already two heads taller than her, just because she wanted her cousins to take her seriously. And after that they did. She incited John to steal money from his parents, which ended horrible. Everything she did and everything she was astonishing. There just was something about her, something so light and mesmerizing. How could she have been bought to her knees by a simple disease? 

Now her light was out and Michael would never see it again. That insight hit him hard. His eyes were already red and swollen, but he couldn’t stop crying, even though he struggled for air. After all he still was a child and until now there was still something that hadn’t broken. This final piece shattered too and he would never be the same person. After all this pain he had been though, he thought in the end everything would work out for him and they would meet again. He still had the glimpse of hope, but that was gone, just like her.

Would she still look the same today? Or maybe she would have changed? Wore her hair short by now? Probably she would have been a blinder too. The flat cap with the razor blades would have suited her and she always had liked to mess with people, especially with Tommy. Anna laughed her ass off every time she successfully made Tommy mad. He fought a lot with her, but Michael liked to think, that his cousin still cared about her. 

Suddenly he had a clear picture in his mind how she would look by now and it fucked him up completely. She should have lived. He needed her. How could he survive without her? And even though he knew that she was dead, there still was a part in him, that didn’t want to believe this. But that was just denial, the first stage of grief. Michael knew this, not that he could do something about this. Instead he just sat there and drank. He drowned so much whiskey despite the horrible taste, but it numbed the pain.

‘Why you?’ he sobbed: ‘You promised to come back. Why did you leave me alone?’ His sister wouldn’t hear his words, but he needed to say them. ‘What happened? You said to me, you would come back and save me. You know what they did to me. To us and then you were gone. They shouldn’t have given you to this horrible family. We should be together.’ His voice was accusing, even though there were no judges or benches. A fire burned in his chest. He demanded answers, but he wouldn’t get any.

‘Why did they break us apart? We were better together- a team.’ Michael mumbled into the void. ‘I needed you and you needed me. Why? God, why? I just…’ The words kept blubber out of him. Now he cried even uglier. ‘I… I… I just… can’t… can’t believe that you… are gone… and how?’ Thinking about this made him crazy. His own thoughts choked him and he let it happen. ‘Were you all alone? And where did it happen? Did you have any friends? Did someone hold your hand when you had died? Were you scared? Did you cry? I don’t fucking know and it kills me.’

Michael was drunk by now, but he didn’t feel any better. Actually it has gotten worse. The wind on the field was cold and he didn’t take his coat while rushing off. Now it was fucking freezing and he was all alone. The sky was getting darker and he could tell that the rain could start any time now, but he still hadn’t the power to move, not even an inch.

His tears had stopped and now he was just sad. God, he must have made a terrible impression, with the red face and the unkempt hair. While crying he had rubbed his face so much, that it hurt. While he sat here he ripped out some grass and watched it flowing in the wind. Downside to that was the grass all over him. Michael brushed it off his pants and then grabbed to bottle. When he drank it, he became so sick, he almost puked. In his anger he threw the bottle away.

There was nothing in him. The fire burned down and now it was just a pile of ashes. He felt empty and numb, which was relieving compared to the pain from before. It must have been hours, he had been sitting here. Michael was just tired, too tired to move a finger. Then everything got blurry and dark as his eyes closed.

When someone woke him up, much later that evening, he almost forgot where he was. ‘Fuck, you smell like schnapps. Pol is going to kill me!’ grumbled a familiar voice.

His head hurt like hell and Michael couldn’t think straight. The surroundings flickered before his eyes. He sounded so hoarse when he blurred out a ‘What?’

‘She sent everybody to look for you. She thought you went back to the other family.’ Explained John and hefted his cousin up. During this procedure Michael moaned like stubborn child. He didn’t want to go back and he certainly didn’t want to see Polly, but he didn’t have much of a choice. John dragged him back to the Watery Lane.

‘Did you really want to scoop?’ he asked. Michael didn’t know a lot about their world, but he already made the decision to stay. It was what Anna would have wanted.

‘No’ he replied: ‘Unfortunately… you guys have to bear me a little longer.’


End file.
